Sexy Sailors

by Neil Plakcy

  Well, the potent combination of vodka and ouzo had me quite tipsy. “Wanna see something?” I handed him the phone. He took it and began looking at the pictures one by one. Then he stopped. He was particularly interested in two of them, for he kept flipping back and forth between them. I looked at them and grinned. He was flipping between the ones of me sucking cock and getting fucked.

  He looked at me and smiled lewdly. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah.” I grinned. “See something you like?”

  He laughed and nudged me with his elbow. Then he reached down and grabbed his crotch.

  “You want to do this?” he said, showing me one of the ass-fuck pix with my heels in the hair and the stud ramming hard into me. “You want to fuck?”

  “You bet!” I said.

  He spoke in a plangent baritone, his accent British. It intrigued me. “Your stories,” he said. “About fucking women. I did not believe you. I had a feeling about you. That you were gay.”

  Thank god Angel’s gaydar was fully operational. I was somewhat embarrassed by the ruse and blushed, but Angel took it as a big joke and laughed good-naturedly.

  “Yes, I am gay,” I said. I was reckless. I leaned toward him and kissed him. “God, I want you so bad!”

  “Careful,” Angel said, lowering his voice. He hesitated for a moment and looked around to see if anybody was watching us. The deck was deserted. He kissed me gently and patted my ass. Even then I had the impression that he was relaxed, totally at ease and happy to be in my company.

  He explained to me that he had to get back because his cabin mate was an older guy who was nosy and always kept an eye on him and was forever asking him questions. It turned out to be the one I called Zorba, who had commented so emphatically about fucking girls. Angel added that I was right to pretend I was straight. Though they were good men, the crew was not especially open to homosexuality; some of them were downright hostile to anyone who was gay. “We will meet tomorrow night. Midnight.”

  “Come to my room. It’s below the first deck. Room 24A. But what about Zorba?”

  “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”

  “Your name. I don’t know your name.”

  “Angelos,” he replied. “Call me Angel.”

  “Angel, I really like you.”

  “I like you!”

  And with that he kissed me and slipped away into the darkness.

  Angel must have struck some deep chord within me, some kind of pagan yearning, for I found myself thinking of Ganymede, who was kidnapped by Jupiter to be his lover. I looked up into the star-filled sky and began to intone words of a strange impromptu prayer in which I invoked the ancient Greek gods of homosexuality: Apollo, Dionysus and Hermes Pan, to smooth the way for me and Angel to enjoy each other’s company.

  The next morning I wrote in my journal and then finished reading one of my gay novels. The writing was shamelessly erotic, which only served to arouse me further, making me think about Angel and all the fun we would have together that evening. Whatever he was planning to make our tryst possible, I prayed fervently that it would all work out.

  Later that day I ran into my fellow passengers, a retired physics professor and his wife, a former ballerina with the New York City Ballet. A bit before my time, I’m afraid, but she and he were charming. They seemed interested in my work and asked me questions. I did my best to satisfy their curiosity. The other passenger was a tall, lithe and sort of ’70s woman who was going to Istanbul to buy antiques for her shop in Greenwich Village.

  I had my meals with the crew as usual. Angel was there but he remained discreet and only smiled at me from time to time, as nonchalant as if we had never met. I realized that it was necessary to maintain discretion if we were to commence our affair. As for me, I was consumed by an impatient lust to be with him. My cock was hard and I felt drops of precum stain my jeans, but somehow I was able to continue my charade of being a big stud with the ladies and told the crew more stories. By the time dinnertime rolled around I was horny as hell and the minutes crawled by like hours, so anxious was I to be in Angel’s company.

  At midnight there was a knock at my door. It was Angel who couldn’t wait to rush into my arms. We began kissing hard and passionately, our hands roaming hotly over each other’s bodies. We kissed for a few minutes and then got out of our clothes. We were that impatient to explore each other.

  I paused to admire Angel’s slender but powerful physique. He was an Adonis who very much resembled Michelangelo’s famous statue of David. He had the same sloping muscles, the powerful upward curve of the buttocks, the same perfectly formed biceps and pecs. His abs were hard and furrowed. His cock large and uncut, curving downward over his impressively large balls. He was a living work of art to me.

  Angel responded to my adoration with equal ardor by paying me one compliment after another. “I love your blond hair, your hazel eyes,” he said, brushing a hand over a shock of hair that grazed my forehead. “You are so handsome.” Then he squeezed my biceps. “You have strong arms.” Suddenly, his hands went for my ass. I could feel his powerful hands kneading my buttocks. “Tight ass,” he said. “I love that, too!” I couldn’t stop blushing but was so happy to see that I appealed to him.

  I asked him if he would let me take his picture. He agreed and after a few initial shy poses he posed for me like a muscleman and flexed his muscles. “I could do a porn movie,” he said playfully.

  “Oh yes, you could,” I said emphatically as I took more pictures.

  I sniffed the air and I could smell him, his natural manly smell mixed with a spicy aftershave, and the whole effect was very erotic. I wanted to lick his ass, run my tongue all over his body.

  Of course, I went right for Angel’s meaty pecs. I rubbed Angel’s nipples between my fingers, pulling and tugging ever so gently. I flicked the edge of my fingernails over the tender tips, making the young Greek Adonis gasp with pleasure.

  I was so fucking horny. My puckers twitched at the thought of Angel ass-fucking me. My cock bolted over and over, so eager was I to have him fuck me. I took out some lube from a bag and rubbed it all over my asshole. Angel grinned broadly as I did this and started to run a hand over his cock, getting it good and hard for me.

  I lay on the bed and thrust my legs into the air. Angel immediately responded to my invitation and positioned himself between my legs. I could feel the blunt head of his cock brush against my spasming puckers and I let out a cry of anticipation and yearning. And yet I had to restrain myself and not be too loud a moaner because no telling who my cabin neighbors were.

  He ran his hands over my asscheeks, slowly and deliberately, and then moved a hand into the cleft of my ass, where he inserted a finger in the crack and slowly ran it back and forth, deeper and deeper, until he had reached my anal puckers. He brushed the tip of his finger along the hole and circled it, immediately eliciting a gasp of pleasure, which encouraged him to begin inserting the finger deep into my hole.

  Angel knew how to work on an ass. He massaged my back and buttocks, kissed and caressed my thighs and asscheeks. He spread my cheeks and blew his warm breath over my hole. Then he nibbled around my taint, the sensitive area between the cock and the asshole. He got everything really warm, wet and lubricated with his saliva. When he licked gently and tapped his tongue gently against my hole, I sighed deeply as waves of pleasure engulfed me.

  “Ah, ah, deeper, deeper into my hole,” I said, wishing it were his cock inside me. He soon granted my wish and once again applied the head of his cock against my hole. He reached over and began lightly playing with my nipples as his cock began its descent into my ass canal.

  He was halfway up my ass when I gave out a stifled cry. God, he was so big!

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I am. Give me a moment to relax. You got such a big cock and I’m so tight. Let me relax a minute.” I fished into my sex kit for a bottle of poppers and took a good whiff. I offered some to Angel but he declined.

  Instead Ang
el took out some Moroccan hash, put some in his little silver pipe and shared it with me. “Open your mouth,” he said. I did as he asked and he blew the sweet smoke into my mouth. I inhaled deeply and within a half a minute, my hole begin to relax and my mind went into a dreamy haze as my whole body relaxed and his cock continued its way up my hole until it hit my prostate.

  I moaned again.

  Angel paused for a moment to allow his mighty cock to plump up inside me.

  “I love my cock inside you.”

  I was impatient for him to begin fucking me. “Fuck me, Angel. Fuck me hard!”

  “You like it rough?”

  “Yeah. Fuck me good and hard.”

  And with that encouragement he proceeded to do just that. Our bodies moved in unison to the rhythmic pumping and thrusting of pelvis against butt, his cock pumping in and out of my ass. I had to remind myself not to cry out too loudly, but he was a powerhouse fucker and that was hard to do.

  I was high as a kite on the hash and the poppers. The potent combo relaxed my body and my asshole so that I was able to let his wonderful cock glide past my sphincter.

  I propped my calves on Angel’s broad shoulders and he pulled me to him. From time to time I kissed his sensuous lips and he whispered Greek words for ass, fuck and cum into my ear.

  Hot streams of sweat streaked down our bodies and we were having the fuck of our lives. I sensed that Angel was ready to come, and so I squeezed my asshole muscles around his cock, milking it for all it was worth. He tossed his head back and cried out, “Ah fuck,” and slammed into me and held his cock steady inside me as it exploded and the hot cum spurted out and seared my hot asshole. He pulled out and I looked into his eyes and began jacking off my hard cock as he played once more with my nipples, getting me good and hot until I unleashed my own hot load, which landed in thick, hot spurts all over his well-muscled abs.

  Afterward, we drank some more ouzo and just lay in each other’s arms, gazing into each other’s eyes, our souls filled with the promise of love and complete perfect brotherhood.

  A sudden thought occurred to me. I asked him what he’d done about Zorba, his cabin mate.

  He chuckled and ran a finger along my chin. “I bought him a bottle of ouzo. He loves to drink. We talked and talked until he got drunk and passed out.”

  Angel’s resourcefulness in the face of adversity made me swell with pride. I kissed him on the lips.

  “So we have all night?”

  “All morning!”

  We spent the rest of the morning getting to know each other better. Between bouts of hard, sweaty fucking, sucking and rimming, we told each other our stories and came to an understanding.

  He was born in Athens but migrated to England, where his dad opened a Greek food store. That explained his British accent. After some years, his family returned to Athens and retired. He was twenty and decided to become a sailor and work on freighter and other cargo ships. He’d been working on the Ulysses for five years.

  He sat propped up on the bed with his hands behind his head. I could see the perspiration glistening in his bushy armpits, streaking his chest. He was smiling down at me. My face was resting on his half-tumescent cock and balls. I could smell the hot sweat wafting from his pubes and bushy armpits. It was a light musk, the kind of manly fragrance that never failed to arouse me.

  As I lay between his muscular legs I ran my hands all over them, feeling the sweaty muscles glide under my palms, finally going up toward his crotch and playing with his cock and balls. I looked up at him, my eyes filled with desire. He returned my gaze with one equally horny. So I ran my hand up and down the thick shaft, pulling back his foreskin to reveal an especially wide cockhead. I noticed a drop of precum glistening in the peehole and he got harder, so I knew he was fully aroused. I sucked his cock once again and within minutes he came to a full climax, filling my mouth with his salty Greek sperm.

  We smoked some more hash and he told me he worked in the engine department assisting the engineers in maintaining the equipment in the engine room.

  I asked him if he enjoyed being at sea. He said it was okay, but he did not seem particularly enthusiastic, though he mentioned the pay was good compared to what he could get home back in Greece. $1,500 was a lot of money back home. His mom and dad depended on that income.

  “Do they know you are gay?”

  “I don’t think so. But I would not tell them. I don’t think they would like it.”

  I felt very sympathetic to his plight. It was clear that although he was making good money, he did not have the freedom to be himself either on board the freighter or with his family. I promised myself that if I were ever in a position to change that, I would. And as I ran my fingers through his curly black hair, I thought how different it would all be if he could live a free and open gay life.

  “If there’s anything I can ever do to help you, Angel, let me know. Okay?”

  He smiled and kissed me. “I will,” he said.

  I kissed him back. “I mean it.”

  Angel kissed his forefinger and traced my lips with it. “I know.” His gentle gesture warmed my heart. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

  By the time we docked in Istanbul, Angel had purchased at least fifty dollars’ worth of ouzo to keep his cabin mate well out of our business. I somehow knew that Angel would be more than just another fuck buddy, that my affair with Angel was something more serious, more profound. I had high hopes of a life with Angel forever by my side.

  Angel and I had one last night of uncontrollable passion before I had to disembark and head for Edirne, where the wrestling championships were to be held. There were plenty of hot, hunky wrestlers, but none could compare to my beloved Angel, and all through that week I did nothing but think and fantasize about him.

  That was a year ago. Now Angel is here with me in San Diego. He’s just come back from playing soccer. He’s all sweaty and I love it. I adore his smell, his scent, his musk. It makes me so horny.

  You can see that I kept my promise to help him. When he said that he wanted to come live with me I was able to get a visa for him through my friends at the State Department.

  I made him my photographer’s assistant and so he was able to help out his family. His brother and sister-in-law moved in with his parents to take care of things on the home front. Once Angel and I get married, it should be no trouble to process a permanent visa and eventually get him naturalized as a United States citizen.

  Whenever I’m in Angel’s arms, and that is quite often, I often think of that starry, balmy night on the Ulysses. I remember my fervent prayer to the Greek gods. To this day I thank them for our happiness.

  BOOTS FOR THE GODDESS

  Connor Wright

  Wind wept around the eaves and windows of the shrine, giving the normally peaceful room an unsettlingly sinister mien. Kelvi rose to his feet, kissed the marble cheek of the goddess’s statue, then stepped aside to let the woman behind him make her own petition. He opened the door just as lightning blazed across the sky; its attendant thunder drowned the tolling of the watch-bell.

  Pulling down his hat, Kelvi snorted. Everyone in town knew damn well a storm had come—the bell was a little superfluous. At least with the racket going on he could work as late as he wanted without complaints from his neighbors. Kelvi made his way back to his smithy, his prayer running through his head the whole time.

  The watch-bell was ringing again. Kelvi dropped his tongs—and the shutter-latch they held—into the quenching bucket and walked out into the street.

  “What is it?” The baker’s wife was squinting toward the bell tower.

  “No idea,” Kelvi said, shading his eyes and turning away from the tower, looking out toward the sea. Perhaps… “I’m going down toward the harbor.”

  “Do you really think—”

  “Tevseth doesn’t believe in drowning,” Kelvi said, and set off at a trot. The memory of his husband making that declaration years ago had been one of two gossamer filaments o
f hope to which he’d clung over the last two and a half weeks.

  Kelvi’s features were like those of most others in town: gold-brown hair, skin burnished bronze by sun and wind—though perhaps not quite as dark as some; his most unusual feature was green eyes where most had brown. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and he never could be bothered to comb his hair, as it made no difference in its appearance. His husband Tevseth, though, was an entire head taller than Kelvi; broad shoulders and brawny legs well-suited to helping haul in nets full of fish; his skin nut brown and his hair closer to auburn, thanks to far more time exposed to the elements.

  Exclamations and shouts went up from the seaward side of town, urging him onward. At the top of the harbor’s ramp, a knot of people were pointing, waving, weeping: a ship was coming in.

  The Sea Dragon was sitting low in the water, low enough that even Kelvi could see that something was wrong. He could tell something was amiss with the sails, as well; there weren’t enough of them and those that remained seemed to be the wrong shape for where they were rigged. Men moved across the deck, which looked normal enough, at least until they’d maneuvered into the slip.

  Kelvi, half a head shorter than most of his neighbors, elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. As a result, he and the town’s healers were the first to see the true damage sustained by the crew. Every one of them sported bandages, even the captain, who led a procession of two pairs of men, each carrying a shrouded body.

  “Tev,” Kelvi said as Tevseth joined the captain. His husband’s left arm was bandaged; dark circles smudged the skin under his eyes. Outside of that, he was still the man Kelvi knew. “Are you—”

  “It’s only a scratch,” Tevseth said, his expression still troubled. “It’s not important. Kelvi… We, uh, we lost two men. Kiseth and…” He closed his eyes and turned his head away, jaw tight for the long moment of silence. “Hathvit.”